


Lily of the Valley

by Estivate



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Any Excuse for Florals, Echoes of Childhood and Adulthood, Extremely Soft Aesthetics, Human Brothers AU, Intense Mutual Pining, M/M, Seasonal Motifs, Tender Healing and Resolve, The Resonance of Small Things, anxiety and depression, fragments of a life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estivate/pseuds/Estivate
Summary: Like the flower itself, the beauty in its perfume and bloom is one that gently aches.Frigga thinks to her late mother in her Sunday best. The white gloves and pillbox hat with her characteristic grace.As many as a dozen bells to an arched stem – taking that many to cause it to bend under their raindrop weight. Lilies of the valley do not bloom in sky-splayed ecstasy. Instead they open shy and bowed, as if they were surprised to have opened at all and yet are here. The first in her garden. They grow neither tall nor extended, choosing to keep to their companion leaves, much broader than the slender flowers themselves.
Relationships: Loki/Thor, Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 119
Collections: Thorki Big Bang 2019





	Lily of the Valley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impalaforthree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaforthree/gifts), [ri_ringo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ri_ringo/gifts).

> Dear Ana, close to a year ago now, I said I'd write something for you. So much has happened since then. In terms of the best that I can give, and written with love, I make good on my word.
> 
> Dear Lily, you made this Big Bang experience special. The quality (and quantity!!) of your artwork speaks for itself in the way you've dedicated your time and investment into my little fictional world. What a privilege it's been.

** _January 1988 – Winter _ **

Two little boys moved with dreamlike slowness through the snowy landscape.

The roads had been treacherous with black ice underneath the dusted snow, and pitifully empty after all the news outlets warned about severe chill and freezing temperatures. Strange weather heralded by a wind that whistled at children’s playgrounds.

Children who didn’t know any better.

Children who never seemed to feel the cold.

The weatherman had self-effacingly joked about not going outside for anything short of “your wife going into labor,” and even then, with a chuckle “tell her to give birth in the house!” 

To Loki’s myopic memory of childhood, the world consisted of only momma, papa, older brother, and himself, and the characters on television representing another town, filled with families perhaps, families like theirs—because all the houses on the streets had seemed eerily devoid of life, like the cold had stolen them away in their sleep.

He was tired too and wanted to rest, but he couldn’t – Thor, thickly bundled in triple layers and a puffy jacket, had his mittened hand in his. They were it a rush. Every time he fell, big brother would urge him back up, drawing his wool hat around his ears, but not before waiting for him to catch his breath. The breaths that came out of him in pretty puffs he couldn’t stop to admire. Thor told him to keep his nose wrapped in his scarf, but it was difficult to keep it tightly wound when they were running.

  
It was a deceptively lovely night.  
  


He ran as quickly as his shorter legs would allow.

Why did home seem so far away?

Memory was a strange thing. At four years old, details like the bitter inhales of breath, the crunch of Thor’s red boots, an urgency that was not anger but relief… but recalling context was like grasping at stars.

They turn a corner and there’s a panelled light in the living room window of a house, the concerned expression of their mother watching for them – pale white curtains parted and framing a face that was creased at the brow with worry. She shifts when she sees them coming up the street, ready to open the door for them and usher them inside.

Perhaps all that was important was the feeling of being found and embraced. 

\---

“See? I told you he’d find him alright.” came the muffled sound of their unperturbed father ensconced in his armchair, watching a few more moments of television before the night was out. Thor sat at the foot of the stairs and leaned against the wall. Frigga placed a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, and he was enjoying the transferred heat of it from the porcelain mug.

“Yes dear.” Frigga muttered tiredly, taking a plate from Odin’s side. She’s too exhausted to argue. Her boys are back safe and sound. She had just finished tucking Loki in bed – quilt up to his chin, assuring him that all was forgiven. Her husband seems to have already forgotten the matter.

It was too near to the New Year for that now.

Thor’s nose is dripping red when she walks past. Some nights Odin will fall asleep in front of the tv before waking up in the middle of the night and trudging upstairs with a heavy gait. She’d rather this night be one everyone can sleep soundly.

Thor lifts his drink and peeks around the wall. He never really understood why the evening news was so engrossing. It was an adult thing, he guesses. There was an anchor woman with platinum blonde hair in smooth delivery and manner. She was pretty, but that wasn’t why father was watching. Somewhere else tonight there had been unspeakable tragedy. Though you’d never surmise it from the lady’s composure.

Frigga notices him eavesdropping, and the screen constricts to black with a click. The point of light at the centre the last to fade.

“Hear that boy?” Odin grunts as Frigga helps him to his feet, taking him by the arm, and turning to look at him, “That’s what the world’s come to.”

He’s not sure about that, but the sweetness of the hot chocolate is comforting. He dips his head and drinks surreptitiously.

Father and mother move past him up the stairs and into the hallway before their bedroom door snicks shut. Thor rarely gets to stay up this late, but it’s not as exciting as he thought. He debates turning on the tv himself and listening at low volume but decided against it. It had been a picturesque family until their two young children were suddenly bereft.

On her way up, Frigga had consolingly patted him on the shoulder and told him that not everyone gets to be a hero.

He deliberated on those words while taking his time, before placing his cup gently in the sink and going up towards the room he shared with Loki. Thor turned out the lights and steered himself by soundless memory in the dark until the door. Hand pausing on the knob, knowing before confirming, that his little brother was asleep inside.

But still he lingered on the thought of what it’d be like to have that kind of power. The power to save everyone.

Or, at the very least, to save someone.

** _July 2003 – Summer _ **

** **

There’s a café on campus that he likes, and because it’s summer, business is slower than it would be in the early afternoon. It’s a welcome change. He’s the only one with a hot drink on a hot day. Then again. He’s the only one at all. The familiar nervousness of being somewhere he shouldn’t—even in a place as modest as this, settles gently in the atmosphere.

He cups his hands around the mug to keep it from trembling. The surface of the liquid is smooth with success.

The semester had started out fine, really. It was his choice to “get ahead” by taking summer courses. Astrophysics. Professor En was eccentric, the kind of scientist who was still tripping from the 70s, but older students assured that his lectures were fun, if difficult.

Loki tries clearing his mind. Nevermind class. He was waiting for someone.

It had taken a surprising amount of resolve to call Thor. As if it were out of the ordinary for brothers to do, from time to time. Thor of course had already graduated university and cheerily wished him the best of his next four years. Three now. Assuming everything went well. High school had been a strange time with Thor in the leading phase of his life and Loki stuck in another. He could only jump so many grades to try and catch up. His brother worried he’d miss aspects of his formative years. Aspects Loki couldn’t possibly envision regretting as he glumly wall-flowered at whatever school dance, while Thor was cramming for midterms while still hungover from Thursday partying.

It became harder and harder to take the initiative and pick up the phone, dial that familiar key-tone he played all the times in his head.

He never wanted Thor to think he was anything other than fine. Even if the clipped monosyllabic response came out surlier than he intended. Even if Loki doubted Thor’s experiences in undergrad would be indicative of his.

Straight A jock. He didn’t need to take bird courses to accomplish it either.

He had never thought his academic capabilities any less, but now he wasn’t so sure. Because Thor was living an independent adult life now, and Loki was finding it hard to aspire for excellence the same way when he knew nothing he’d do would change the course of his life that was growing distant from his brother.

They were enough years apart, but more and more it felt like that time stretched wider.

When he flunked the midterm, professor En (he preferred being called that over Dr. Gast) winked at him and said that an improved final grade would be weight adjusted. So he doubled his efforts and studied hard, but his mind was a sieve and the concepts, while not difficult to grasp, caused him to blank on the final.

Thankfully the same course was being offered in the consecutive summer semester but…

Those midterms had gone by too and the questions hadn’t been recycled like he’d hoped.

Professor En, with an amused quirk of his lips, seemed expectant of him at his office. Professor En was always amused at something, much to Loki’s personal distress. “Why don’t you uh, have a seat there Loki—” They were on a first name basis.

He rose to close his office door when Loki had left it open behind him. The Venetian blinds were already drawn shut. “Look, I know you’re having a hard time, kiddo, a lot of first years do.”

He wasn’t supposed to be like other first years. For one he was only sixteen.

“I uh—” he steepled his fingers and licked his lips “I’m willing to make life a little easier for you.”

The words should have brought him relief.

That was a month ago.

Last night he’d come back from En’s office again.

The telephone booth just happened to be empty and innocuous. Standing in the cast of a lamplight. He’d forgotten his keys, so he should call his roommate to let him into residence. He should call his roommate…

Though the quiet tune of Thor’s number dialled more easily in his ears. It played over and over while he leaned his forehead on the metal of the call box. Something to shut out the ringing in the quiet. Before he knew it his fingers had danced over the silver tabbed key pad and he’d actually called Thor.

It was late, his brother would’ve been sleeping early for the next workday. He shouldn’t be bothering him like this, the rings had already gone on too lon—“Hello?”

_Oh. Oh god. _

Again, after Loki tried really hard not to breathe into the receiver. “…hello?”

He wanted to tell Thor everything he really did. He didn’t mean for it to go so far—but the lump in his throat was hard enough to swallow let alone speak around.

“L-Loki? Is that you?”

And then he’d let out a soft sob followed by a whimper. His throat hurt and the edges of his lips burned raw.

Letting go of the reverie, he looks into his own, slanted reflection in the liquid’s surface. He should take a sip before it gets cold. He carefully stirs cream into it first. He never did learn how to take coffee black. He challenges himself by stirring without having the spoon tink against the white ceramic.

He knows very well how to keep up appearances. He didn’t want Thor to be more worried than he needed once he arrived. God knows sometimes he felt like he was crazy, but the last thing he wanted was to look it.

Loki knows how to torment himself with words when he’s alone, and crazy is something you spit.

Mind morbidly idle, other synonyms and their connotations are just as painful, but they differ.

Madness was blunt and detached, delivered by a man in a white coat, while insanity wailed like an asylum.

Maybe if he wants to appear anything, it’d be distempered. Distemper was delicate. Hopefully momentary. Distemper was the state of princes whose desires warred with themselves.

Words could still be merciful yet.

He’d been successful in his silent stirring, but it’s the ring of a bell at the door frame that brings him back to the present.

Thor looks like the presence of summer, wind swept before him, and as always, just a little larger than life for the small establishment they were in. Loki rises slowly, and his brother’s blue eyes rove over him in concern. Before he even has time to mount a sound of greeting upon an exhale, Thor has taken him into a hug.

His breath stops completely.

Loki’s thin arms return the embrace. He’s missed him so much.

More than he can say.

** **

** _March 1989 – Spring _ **

** **

He always told himself it was the green in his little brother’s eyes that tied him over into spring. The same was true for Loki, but it was Thor’s sky blue that was more year-round. Eventually winter melted away, and with it, tentative shoots of grass peeked out under thinning layers of snow, alongside less trepidatious stems of wild crocus. The ground softened to that of wet mulch, and snow boots were swapped out for rain boots.

Frigga hums as she works. Russet blonde hair tied up in a loose bun, but cheeks stained with dirt where her hands had brushed the strands back. Their house is on the street corner, and it’s nothing palatial, even if she would’ve loved to have a sunroom for the boys to read and play in. Small town living was not extravagant, but Odin had promised her once before, and she still teases him about fulfilling it.

Instead she has a garden, which is the local envy, and tends to it.

For the most part Loki is a quiet boy and easy to look after. The way her sons complemented each other she always wished they’d been twins instead. It’s hard to tell Loki no sometimes when he forgets he’s not supposed to follow after Thor to school in the mornings. There were unfortunately very few others his current age, but young as he is, Loki is already snobbish towards other children. Anyone, really, who wasn’t his brother.

Thor is the center of Loki’s little universe, and currently he is waiting by the window for said universe to come home.

Most days, within the final hour leading up to that time, Loki will wait as a cat at the window sill, and near nothing is good enough to entice him from his perch other than his sibling, but today Frigga is feeling lucky. Today the garden has a surprise for both of them. She smiles and calls in slight singsong.  
  


He joins her outdoors, surprisingly soft-footed for a child, and peers over her shoulder to the cluster of flowers that have blossomed. Tender lilies of the valley in the shade. Earlier than she expected, but no less lovely. Loki has never been a destructive child, so she’s not worried as he crouches down on all fours beside her. Their scent is so fine and ethereal, as substantial as a spider’s thread on the wind, but they both knelt in towards it.

Like the flower itself, the beauty in its perfume and bloom is one that gently aches.

Frigga thinks to her late mother in her Sunday best. The white gloves and pillbox hat with her characteristic grace.

As many as a dozen bells to an arched stem – taking that many to cause it to bend under their raindrop weight. Lilies of the valley do not bloom in sky-splayed ecstasy like most. Instead they open shy and bowed, almost as if they were surprised to have opened at all and yet are here. The first in her garden. They grow neither tall nor extended, choosing to keep to their companion leaves, much broader than the slender flowers themselves. Sometimes the plant is popular as a bouquet, but Frigga prefers them like this: intimate and complete.

A recognizable set of footsteps causes them to look up just as Thor is making his way down the sidewalk. He waves, the other hand clutched to the strap of his backpack, before breaking into a short jog where Loki has already toddled towards the steps’ end.

Loki’s hands, soft with baby fat and smeared with damp dirt, reach out for Thor’s, and he points his older brother towards the lilies. “Oh cool! Did you help mom to make that happen?”

In that moment, she thinks on nothing other than how much she loves her boys.

\---

Perhaps the flowers had bloomed a little too soon unfortunately. The weatherman was talking of overnight warnings due to a sudden Northern cold front, and Frigga pouts. She perched herself gently on the armrest. Passing Odin his late night cup of coffee.

Spring had arrived too graciously and thus tested winter’s hold. The boys would need another cover for their bed. She wouldn’t want them catching cold.

Slipping on her faded pink slippers as she went upstairs, Frigga sought out a coverlet from the linens closet. Thor and Loki were lit from underneath the blankets using the flashlight that he kept by the bedside. It formed a tent with Thor’s head as apex support, and no doubt Loki was curling in beside Thor as he read to them.

She playfully pats Thor’s head from the outside and tells them to come out from underneath. They wiggle their way to the pillows, already in pajamas.

The children’s book was one of colorful, thick paperboard bindings, its cover sporting a man in a hot air balloon, near leaning out of his basket with his hand telescope. “Oh the Places I’ve Seen!” the title declared.

She plucks it out of their hands and props it up on the lamp. With perfect timing, she had come upstairs just as Thor finished reading. “Go to sleep now. You still have school tomorrow Thor.”

“Uh huh.” He nods, blond hair yet a mess.

She flaps the coverlet open and presses it to rest smoothly, tucking it under their chins and the sides tight under the mattress. Loki’s eyelids sink low, and he nestles closers to his big brother.

Two child sized lumps under the sheets, clutching each other – but next year Thor will be getting his own bed. The thought makes her a little sad – at the thought of how all children must grow up, and yet wanting to preserve this moment in time.

When she flicks the light switch off to leave, frost is already building up on the edge of the window.

\---

In the morning, Thor and Loki both need to put on coats and a thicker pair of socks. Thor ties his shoelaces while Loki lines up neatly the straps of velcro. His little brother usually takes him as far as the end of the walkway before letting go of his hand, but today they linger for a moment at the lilies. The frost had done its delicate lacework. Their blooms now looked like tiny crystal bells held still in the way they hung – as if they would shatter for fear of ringing.

They were lovely, even if it wouldn’t last.

By the time Thor returns in the afternoon, the day’s temperature coming back up to an expected warmth, he knew that the flowers would have wilted.

When he comes home, he finds Loki’s eyes red-rimmed.

** **

** _September 2003 – Fall _ **

** **

Autumn’s chill came early, on the heel of a punishing summer, and so Loki was not sad to see it go, but he shrank into his coat, feeling the wounding cold of the wind through the fabric. He cupped his hands to his mouth and exhaled warm air to drive back the cold sting in his lungs.

Despite that, it was a beautiful day. The sky a brilliant and clear blue.

On campus, students would be pouring into lecture halls, and colds would spread by the cramped seating arrangements. Sniffly noses and warm scarves.

Loki hasn’t that excuse though, so he really ought to not come down with anything.

His courses had been put on hold, pending, and resuming academic enrollment when he was ready again.

He had known, perhaps all along, that poor school performance was a symptom rather than the cause. Thor offered him all the time in the world to work it out.

And so everywhere was walking distance when you had enough time.

Cold weather should have inspired him to remain indoors, to seek the comfort of four homey walls, huddle in sweaters under a fleece, and thick socks against tiles. If one were inclined to be lazy, there was no guilt on a cold day.

But he was restless. Aimless.

It’s nice in a way.

He waits in line when there is a line. He passes through shop doors when there are window displays that draw him in. He sits on a park bench when a break is warranted. He takes note of the gently sequined blue scarf a woman wears with her lambskin gloves that reminded him so much of mother. But the skirt is wrong.

It’s awful in this way.

It’s now September, in a strange part of the city. Fall descends in small, colorful pieces.

He sits quietly below a tree that is blushing ochre and shedding auburn. Children are playing several yards away. Their laughter and cheer brighter than the leaves. He watches them with an innocent longing. There’s a dark-haired boy running after his fair-haired friend. Just yesterday he had skinned his knee from tripping and trying to keep up, and even from the distance where he sat, Loki felt the child’s tears well before seeing them.

It was a wistful echo between the hollow now and the irrecoverable then.

Ever since their parents died, Thor had worked tirelessly to provide for both of them. Over the years, it had been slow for him. He had expected more of a shock. A fissure yawning wide beneath. Ash that’d fall instead of rain. Not in the reality of course, but…some kind of fracture like the shifting of inner planes. Cramp or seizure. But as he waited for it, one breath following another, breathing into tomorrow, which passed away their bygone years.

He was selfish he knew – waiting for a time to fall to pieces. After all, Thor had lost just as much, but stepped into adulthood seamlessly when he could not.

In the end, Thor told Loki to come stay with him. As he knew he would.

Loki didn’t resist it either, was in no state to broker argument, but more importantly: didn’t want to.

The child gifts a particularly large and perfectly golden shaded leaf to his friend before they part, mothers taking them each in hand. They look over their shoulders until the other is out of sight. The leaf a promise of tomorrow, sure as a farewell kiss or a dropped handkerchief.

The main difference being, of course, that they are not brothers.

So he rises to go.

\---

He took his time walking through the city, leaves crunching underfoot. The day was no longer as bright as it started off. Though no herald of rain, placid grey clouds gradually flowed overhead. The wind moved through the thin cloud cover like the gentlest motions of touch upon a length of silk, smoothed thin or densely creased. From moment to moment, with it, the light’s quality changed too, glimmering between uncertainty and brightness.

Dark eyes stared up at the sky as his feet carried him to his brother’s workplace. Thor always got off at exactly fifteen past five, and when he came through the doors, coat partly donned, he smiled as he spotted Loki. 

“Have you been out all day? You should’ve taken something thicker. Mine are. If only slightly oversized.” shrugging good-naturedly but letting him know for next time. Loki doesn’t mind being fussed over something as small as this.

“Here.” trading his thicker scarf for Loki’s thinner one – undoes and wraps it around him. Loki is now blushing furiously beneath his neck, but it’s alright since the area’s just been covered up, and whatever color on his cheeks can be blamed on the chill.

A familiar gesture: Thor eased his arm around Loki’s shoulder, drawing him near. He yielded into the half-embrace after a beat of unresponsiveness, before exhaling and leaning against him. Thor steered them towards the parking lot.

Loki wouldn’t have minded if they took what remained of daylight to walk back as far as they could together. While he’s sure Thor may have indulged him if he simply spoken up about taking the opportunity…he knew his brother’s days had their own rhythms and schedules now.

Their steps fell in gentle cadence on the concrete path. Despite being together, he felt each stride resonate with a hollow that jarred with the weight of his foot against the pavement. Had felt it all day.

\---

_‘How could Jane break up with you?’_

He hadn’t actually been brazen enough to ask yet though. When Thor had declared he stay with him temporarily, he dreaded the prospect…not quite sure if he’d be able to accept interrupting the picture of domestic bliss, and least of all wanting to be third wheel. Once he stepped through the doorway however, it became evident: the pairs of shoes lined up that were only Thor’s, one lone toothbrush in the bathroom, none of her clothes in the closet.

It made his mind reel at how quickly the relief flowed through him.

Thor had cleared his throat awkwardly and simply stated that they had gone their separate ways. Judging by the way he looked to the side as he’d said it, Loki didn’t press for details. Had he done a better job keeping in touch while at school, he probably would’ve known already, but he hadn’t, so it was unfair to pry.

“Oh.” was all he whispered softly. Selfishly.

These days his brother’s a much better cook. Back then he had to learn in a rush and without any of the guidance Frigga would’ve imparted. Loki remained a picky eater though and makes a face at the brussels sprouts Thor takes out of the fridge and places onto the counter.

He laughs “Hey, you like it better than meal hall food.” That much was true. He had actually lost weight during first year while most kids gained.

Strange though, how all it is, as they simply are, prepping and chopping ingredients, sneaking bites, and spooning sauce to taste, how badly Loki wishes he could have what she gave up. That it was available for him as much as it was to any girl who got serious with his brother.

“Have you met anyone yet?” Thor tries, in getting Loki to open up more freely.

No he hasn’t. No one compares.

“Only a few coffee dates here and there.”

His lie keeps Thor satisfied a little longer, but his appetite cuts off sharply and there’s that familiar plunging feeling in his gut that twists with anxiety on top of guilt.

_He’s only trying to help you._

Across from him, Thor’s not as imperceptive as he lets on, but he knows how it is. Push too hard and he’d only retreat further. He’d give Loki all the time he needed if he knew Loki would one day come out with it.

He just isn’t even sure of that.

And whatever it was, it was eating him from the inside.

\---

_Thor._

The fog that filled the shower seemed to also fill his head. More than the light-headedness of the water’s heat. Each night felt like a transgression – _was_ a transgression.

His brother initially pitched taking the couch while he took the bed, but Loki wouldn’t let him.

_‘It’s alright, we’re brothers.’ _

Loki would sooner take the couch himself than cause further discomfort. His dark eyes implored Thor not to go out of his way. Perhaps seeing something in them, he didn’t put up much of a protest. _‘Are you sure?’_

_‘It’d just be like when we were young.’_

His vision swam, and he pressed his hand against the glass, trying to keep steady, as flickers of more images of brotherly pretense made the hardness between his legs ache piercingly. Images laden with lies and longing.

The slow torture that was his own hand sliding over his erection. His only stolen outlet.

Loki chokes on the steam as he jerks himself off, rivulets running down his hair and face. He couldn’t stay too long if he didn’t want to risk fainting. Spots dance behind his eyelids as he comes.

Only after all evidence washes away does he turn off the water.

\---

Thor's oversized t-shirt falls all the way down to his knees. A ridiculous fit, but one that he loves for it's familiarity. So many of his hand-me-downs were the same. Loki tended to grow into them - eventually, but at seventeen now he doesn't think he'll be able to grow that much more.

He lifts the covers and gets into bed. Drawn towards the way the mattress dips towards Thor's side. Loki didn't sleep on his back or front, couldn't stay comfortable in the night if he did. He could've chosen to sleep with his back towards him instead but that too felt unnatural.

If he didn't think about how weird their current arrangement was, he'd be less self-conscious about it. 

Thor sat up against the headboard and ran a hand through his damp hair. "You'll catch a cold you know."

"Mmm. No I won't." nuzzling his face into the pillow, and knowing for a fact that his brother had turned up the heating a degree. 

He smiled at him, and usually about now was when he'd turn in as well, but Thor didn't move to kill the lights, and Loki saw his smile falter.

He tenses under the touch. "What's wrong?"

Thor's gaze turned serious. "I dropped by campus today at his office hours."

He pushes himself up on one arm, dread leeching in like a sudden temperature drop. "No. Please. You didn't."

"I did." voice firm. Low. Fists clenching the sheets.

"Thor-- I still have to make that course up when--" his throat constricting in panic.

"You're not stepping foot in his lecture hall again." he growls. 

"But--!" 

"It's been taken care of. Your mark for that class." then looking away as if he were ashamed. The memory of how he had the man up by his collar against the wall. He uncurls his hands "I should've gone to the provost." 

"Don't!" He hugs his knees up to his chest, sitting up. "Please. Don't. It's enough that I won't have to resume the course." gaze faraway on the opposite wall. 

Thor still regards him in silent struggle, but finally concedes. "Alright. I won't pursue it." voice tired and defeated. He couldn't do that to his little brother. Tries not to think about how it'll happen to someone else down the line. 

At only seventeen, in Thor’s oversized shirt, hugging himself on the bed and looking away, Loki looks so small. _I let this happen didn’t I?_ They should’ve waited a year. It’s not like Thor couldn’t have funded a trip for travel – allowed Loki to see the world instead of…chasing books all the time.

_What makes you think something wouldn’t have happened to him so far away from home either?_

And that was always the protective big brother instinct he had to fight with. Evidently, not without reason. Loki’s only had him for most of his life now. It wouldn’t always be the case though…eventually Thor will have to give him up. The means for better, elsewhere, with another.

He swallows. Warring with himself whether to comfort Loki or not. Whether he’s the one Loki needs in his current predicament. But he knows he is on precarious ground. Force the issue and his brother might retreat further into himself. Let it go unspoken further and they make no progress with the impasse. But he’s stood idly by long enough…hasn’t he?

“I know…I know it’s not anything to do with the difficulty of the material. Most mothers would kill for a child with your brains Loki. And I’m not worried about keeping the scholarships either. We can always do without. I just…want to know how to help.”

Loki turns to view him with an expression that Thor has a hard time placing. Like he already knows but is hesitant to tell. Why that is Thor can’t fathom. They’ve never kept anything from each other. Thor has never held any knowledge against him. He tries to pre-empt Loki by assuaging the worst possibilities.

_Oh god please don’t let it be drugs._

Tries sorting out his tongue before he opens his mouth to speak.

“If you want to change streams that’s fine too.” _Mental health was a big deal, a lot of freshman encountered the limits of their own fortitude at university_. “If it’s anything a therapist can help with that’s easy enough to arrange – down the line, medication or sessions – as long as you need them for I’ll pay—”

He’s rambling. He doesn’t know how or where to stop.

Loki looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. _I’m not sure a therapist would be able to prescribe anything to help. I’m not sure if there’s a pill in the world to cure me of this. I’m not sure I would take it either._

It’s no common sight, to see his brother so flustered. Loki understands he’s simply trying to not offend. To reassure that he would be everything and anything Loki needed him to be. A sad smile graces his lips: that was the problem. He’s loved Thor for as long as he could remember. A form of love that’s slowly killing him the older he becomes and is able to better understand. A love that threatens to disintegrate with time and leave him hollow after its absence.

_How did it come to this?_

If he confesses this…feeling— this _sickness_— will he be able to survive Thor finally freezing him out. A future of half embraces, reserved smiles, checked conversation. It would gut him. He doesn’t know which possibility is the worst of the lot: Thor not knowing and one day with an immediate family of his own, and Loki off to the side – at best hoping to be a photo framed on a desk; Thor knowing and then having no choice but to be guarded in all future interactions – or even worse, cutting Loki off now and leaving him bereft; or Thor never knowing and consumed with guilt and self-condemnation at watching his brother slip away from him without cause.

In his defense, Loki had tried. Honesty and truly, he had tried. Steps toward independency, towards…the kind of life that people entering responsible society had an obligation to achieve. Grades, a girlfriend, later on a career, children, retirement. He could’ve done it, some part of it still thinks. He could’ve gone through the motions of a pretend-fulfilling life. People did it all the time. He just hadn’t expected it to feel…so hollow.

The way Thor’s life had been progressing towards the perfect marriage and picket fence. It corroded at him inside. Then, motivation had similarly lost all meaning.

Nevermind that he could never replicate the kind of person Thor was, not even for pretense. Not even for being the most warm and charismatic person in the world. He’d look bad for trying, and he knows he’s been lucky enough to have had Thor’s love this long.

Loki had hoped so badly that the day wouldn’t come this soon, but the willful negligence, the fragile suspension: it couldn’t last. Now he must choose between the worst outcomes based on his own selfishness.

He knows himself. He knows that he has always been selfish.

All he had ever done to Thor was take from him. His suffering was a meaningless thing he used to pull him in further, to make Thor’s presence his blanket. Whenever he spoke Loki’s name, his longings became greedy, and some part of him knew he was holding this as leverage to make Thor care. Thor would give up everything for Loki and Loki would never be able to do anything meaningful in return. He only cared enough to be ashamed…and he tenuously hoped, rather than believed, that Thor would forgive him some day when he knew.

Like this, he had let it go on. It felt good being together in these stolen days, stolen hours, stolen moments.

But the feeling would always leave him empty again with the reality that this mimicry of a life together was a temporary thing. A farce. Even worse for being what it was without his brother knowing better. And now, as Thor’s eyes begged him for the truth, his frustration flared.

Couldn’t Thor do just one more thing for him? Love him enough to continue the lie?

He regretted the thought instantly, however.

How could he hold Thor in such poor regard? He can’t help it, his eyes start to well, and Thor snaps his mouth shut, while leaning forward, both afraid to touch and afraid to continue.

What right— what right did he have to hold this over him? The possibilities and their consequences played out in his head once more. Tell him now and Thor will come to grips with his own decision, the one that had a possibility in playing out with Thor’s future happiness intact. Keep the truth, and Thor would forever punish himself for it, and Loki will be left watching as his brother’s heart crumbles.

If he could have put this off for just a little longer, he would’ve, but this was perhaps a rare moment of clairvoyance in which he could do the selfless thing for once.

If he waits any later, the feeling might never return.

Droplets clinging to his eyelashes and swallowing thickly, his voice comes out a barely perceptible whisper in the deafening quiet. “Just promise you won’t throw me out tonight?”

He hears an intake of breath. “I would never.”

Fishing for the right words and their order is a futile thing. He wonders if he should get off the bed while doing this but is too nervous to move. Heartbeats pass in skipped time. His eyes dart. He wishes he could look at Thor without being seen by him.

“Close your eyes.”

Thor gulps. Not knowing where this is going. Not knowing what to even anticipate. But he obliges.

He senses Loki’s weight shifting and for a moment he’s afraid Loki will run away from this and make a bolt for it. Terrified that he won’t know whether or not to go after, and in his sleep clothes for Christ’s sake. But the weight shifts closer to him and he wants badly to see what’s happening, but instead keeps his eyes shut.

A brief pause while he can practically count the breaths between.

And then the shyest of touches of lips meeting lips. Loki’s lingering on his, trying to register the warmth of touch as well as contact. The slightest graze to feel its friction. And then it’s gone.

It’s gone and Thor’s eyes are slow to open upon revelation.

For there’s no mistaking the meaning behind the action.

The significance of it feels like it should warrant something greater. Something that’s not just the dim and cool lamp light on his nightstand, the drawn curtains to keep at bay the oblivious world, the creases in blankets that betray its occupants’ company.

Such an otherwise ordinary confession. All he can say is ‘oh.’

Nothing between them will ever be the same.

And Thor accepts this.

Accepts it as he draws Loki into his arms, his little brother’s expression crumpling into tears the way relief floods him.

He lets him cry. All the tears there must be from however long he’s been keeping this secret. Even now they fall steadily and silently. He feels the damp warmth of it through the fabric. It’s the warmest sensation despite their reason for falling.

He tightens his hold where moments ago he had been reluctant. Loki’s breath hitches, and that’s when the rest of his defenses crumble against Thor’s resolve. He’ll hold him all night if he must. Because he understands why he’s felt his little brother slipping away, like sand held so tightly within his palms, one grain at a time. For all the effort it took in clutching for hours, days, or all the sudden, had it become years?

The way they fit together is achingly familiar. And that was always the one immaculately sincere promise he had made them, that he would always be there.

The past was past except what was left of it - and in time, the anxiety of being buried underneath the surface of new experiences and memories. He remembers being a child and wanting once to never have to grow up. He needed to in the end, faster than most, but always shouldered it resolutely because he wordlessly understood his brother’s innate vulnerability. 

Was always trusted with it.

There were worse things Loki could have been or done over which Thor would still have wanted him in his life.

Come morning, the prospect of a tomorrow with him right beside, the future seems like a gentle acknowledgement.

Thor shifts only to turn off the light. Holds Loki against him the way he needs it: a protective crevice in the rock of the world he could hide in. The only measure of time in the dark being the muted number of heartbeats against those softening cries.

“You’re not disgusted at me?”

He strokes the soft strands of his brother’s hair. “I’ll never be.”

His answer, assuring him not only of the present but also of the future, was so much more than Loki dared hope. Had he not already cried himself empty, a new wave could’ve hit him just then. In the morning there would be repercussions, but for now it’s enough.

It’s enough.

He lets himself curl into Thor’s frame. Comforted by the only constant in his life that was yet still such.

Caught in the first drifts of exhaustion-led sleep, he murmurs a request from childhood habit. “Tell me a story. Tell me a place we could go.”

_Without the shame of who we are and what’s between us._

Said so softly it could’ve been prayer. It stirs the cobweb dusted corners of Thor’s heart. Feels like a lifetime since they’ve done this.

So he gives him a scene: somewhere warm and bright, in a world of perpetual sundown when the world feels like it’s been lit from below, and the light feels near and large in the sky. Not so close to shore that the wind carries brine, but not so far from shore that it wouldn’t be able to sift through the tall grass.

The amber sun runs heatedly along both their bodies while the breeze’s gilt edge strokes their faces.

Thor’s voice describes a place they have never been except only in their imaginations. One where he descriptively offers Loki his hand, and escorts him throughout the fields. When Loki is no longer able to consciously hear his words, he whispers them a little longer so that he’ll continue to explore it in his dreams.

  
  


It’s only when Thor’s own thoughts start to unravel that he remembers why he can’t remain within golden scenery and aureate air.

Some part of him fears that he has pushed Loki to this in ways he’s not aware. That his little brother was still confused and emotionally compromised by his affair with En, and that even now Thor was taking advantage like this.

He was truthful when he said he could never be disgusted at Loki, but the same didn’t apply to himself.

Because Thor could keep a secret too.

** _June 1989 – Summer_ **

The world seemed to drip in shades of citrus from the heat.

The afternoon slides from scorching to sultry. Sprinklers go off at mid-peak water cost-saving times in the afternoon, right around when some households start having dinner. Despite the watering, most of the neighbourhoods’ plants are pallid. Even Frigga’s bright blue hydrangeas are staggered over from the uneclipsed heat.

Nonetheless, Loki wants to go out to the park. Thor doesn’t mind going with him, not so much, but while his little brother is keen, it’s really one of those days where he’d rather melt against the couch and find amusement flipping through the channels.

Frigga shoos them out the door however, for having done nothing other than stay plastered to the cushions all day like house cats.

It’s only when they’ve rounded another corner along the concrete walk does Thor internally groan at the sensation of the back of his shirt starting to stick to skin. Maybe today they’d keep the excursion a little shorter than usual.

He looks over at Loki, walking hand in hand by his side, in shorts, a tee, and a sunhat. He’d been stubborn when Thor needed to coerce him to wear it, but his little brother burned much more easily. Thor just bursts out in freckles over his nose. Freckles that Loki counts sometimes to practice his numbers.

Thor tries to pick a shaded part underneath the playground structure to cool off, lying on his back in the sand. It’s fairly quiet, and so Thor’s able to keep track of Loki’s movements up and down on the slides and bars without needing to keep his eyes open. That is, until someone else calls his name.

“Thor?”

It was Melissa from class. He remembered that her house was in the neighbourhood too since he’d attended her birthday party just a few months back. She’s walking her daschund when she noticed them. “Hey.” She says, ducking her eyes a little and blushing.

“Hi!” he responds, all cheery and already dusting the sand off as he rises.

They chat for a while about how summer’s going. The bbq the Hollands are hosting next week, how some of the other kids going there. She speaks excitedly about her sister’s older friends, and how a few have already had their first kisses. Thor does recall that Melissa’s particularly preoccupied by these kinds of matters. He’s only interested in the food.

“You don’t _actually _think it just tastes like whatever was last eaten, do you?”

He shrugs “Why wouldn’t it?”

For some reason she huffs and seems a little personally offended by this.

“I’ll give you a dollar if you give me one, so we can say for sure.” she prods, making a point to fish out the coin from her skirt pocket.

“Mmm. Iunno.” He replies. From the corner of his field of view, Loki seems to be studying them most intently.

“Two dollars then.” She raises.

He’s at the age where two dollars seems like a lot. That’s two bags of chips from the vending machine. Maybe even an ice cream sandwich at the convenience store that he can get on the way back. He wipes his brow. Still feeling hot. It’s easy to be swayed.

“Three.”

“Fine.”

She perks up and tosses them his way.

At school there are talks of crushes and sometimes it was hard to play with a girl at recess for multiple days in a row before there’d be teasing. He squints his eyes, studying the way the sun outlines her, and wonders if that’s the kind of thing you need to have before you kiss a girl – a crush that is.

Melissa is pretty enough. Her dog nice enough.

Girls were so weird, but he’s not giving up the three dollars now.

They’re suddenly awkward as they realize they have no idea how to properly initiate a kiss. So they do it completely wrong, heads straight, noses bumping at the tip, but clumsily their lips make contact. It’s not even that slimy. Because Melissa pulls away quickly and gasps as if surprised by her own actions, and now initiated into that cool girl rank. She leaves, giggling and waving behind her.

Thor’s just happy for the money, but when he turns back, Loki is scowling at him.

He comes towards him. Just as well – it should be time to head back.

“I want one.”

Thor rolls his eyes. “Oh come on.” Loki got his session at the park with his older brother dragged along with him. The money seems like decent compensation. “We’re going home.” He reaches out to grab Loki’s hand when he turns away, suddenly very preoccupied with the importance of trying the swings.

Thor sighs, exasperatedly, “Please?” he really wants a fudgesicle now that the possibility crosses his mind, and he wants it in time before the store closes.

Loki shakes his head. “I want one.”

“I’ll get something for both of us, that’s just as good right?”

Loki jumps off at the swing’s arc. Thor thinks he’ll get lucky and this won’t drag out into a tantrum, but Loki is still shaking his head. “I want a kiss too.” He says adamantly, stubbornly, and already puckering up.

Then it hits him that his brother wasn’t talking about the money.

He sputters, “T-that’s not something brothers do Loki.” Oh gods. Explaining this was going to be difficult wasn’t it. “Adults do it when in love, like the fairytales.” He wasn’t an adult, but he’s hoping Loki won’t call him on that.

“Are you in love?” Loki asks, pointedly. Sneaker scuffing into the sand.

Thor stalls over what he should say. If he says yes, Loki will get curious and that’ll spawn a million more questions. If he says no, he loses ground. Meanwhile the sun was starting to set, and their shadows already stretched long.

“No, but that’s not the point. I’ll explain it to you later.” getting annoyed.

Loki simply crosses his arms and staunchly stays in place. Thor’s really not in the mood to drag him back. Thor looks around, frustrated, and makes sure no one else’s here.

“Fine!” he blurts out. It’ll be just as quick, and then they can go. His palms are sweaty, but he puts them on his little brother’s shoulders to keep him steady. Unlike Melissa he has to lean over to close the distance. Loki’s pleasantly surprised expression lights up his face, and the emerald of his eyes have stayed clear and lush when nothing else about the outdoors have. In tilting and dipping his head under the brim of his brother’s sunhat, Thor has a better angle on this than his previous try.

Loki closes his eyes instinctively when Thor sweeps in near. So does Thor.

His aim is accurate as he feels his lips landing on his brother’s. There’s a bit more of a pressure this time, from the speed he applied it, such that he can appreciate the softness.

Leaning back, and now having the time to internalize what he’d just agreed to and done, a blush was creeping up his neck. He looks away, muttering “C’mon.” This time Loki cooperates as they leave the park. White teeth flashing in a grin, looking smug, despite Thor’s newfound modesty.

When they arrive back at their doorsteps, Frigga coos when she sees them with popsicles. Saying it was probably about time they started Loki on a small allowance. Loki nodded eagerly, tongue darting out to catch the chocolate that was melting about the stick. Thor side-eyed him, peeved, but choosing to stay quiet.

At night, under the thin covers, they continued trading cheek pecks and kisses. Thor doesn’t think anything on the appropriateness of it. It admittedly felt nicer the more they experimented. His brother’s lips tasting like the mint of toothpaste as well as the remnants of fudge.

** _January 2003 – Winter_ **

Within the depths of winter – sheer chills and long nights – the falling of soft, white snow took on a different sorrow. Gazing outside while sitting at the windowsill, Loki closed his eyes briefly, and then reopened them. A fateful dance towards descent. Lovely but inexorable: this swirling grace that hid a fatal kiss of cold. He found it familiar but strange and shuddered while drawing the fleece tighter around himself.  
  


Even beauty, however, could seem such a desolate scene when alone.

He recalled years ago an evening that looked like this in memory. There were snowy nights you could trust and snowy nights you couldn’t. Now that he’s older he wonders if he can tell the difference.

Thor still isn’t home yet.

Thor had been working late the last few days. Even though by now it’s close to bedtime and Thor had never worked _this _late, not by a few hours. Drawing a breath, Loki’s mind flinched, skittered around the edges any number of reasons that might be keeping him. Any number of reasons why he hadn’t called.

He glanced down at the cup in his hand, still full of cooled tea that he hadn’t drank from once. On its surface he saw his indistinct reflection outlined, and with the movement of his setting it down, the liquid inside shivered, disrupting its surface. He couldn’t quiet his thoughts, and now he couldn’t sustain his own distractions.

Outside the snow kept falling, layers building thicker, flakes accumulating larger.

There are fears one should heed and fears that one shouldn’t. He doesn’t know how to not.

He hadn’t turned the lights on, waiting all this time by the window. Watching the streets outside. Wary after the weather warning.

Nothing but shadows in the otherwise empty apartment. With the snow falling in perpetuity. He felt himself in abeyance, as though secluded while the world outside crumbled into white. Suddenly, desperately, he needed Thor to come home – he wanted the physical reality of his brother, safe and tangible.

The disquiet of disappearance looms large in his mind. The same way mom and dad never returned home on a fateful winter’s night. Anxiety starts to ball up in his throat and he wishes he wasn’t alone.

The worst thing he can do now, he thinks, silently despairing, is going to bed and risk waking up in the morning still alone. He’d rather take his chances venturing outside.

He blinks back the coming tears. When they were children, Thor always guided him back home. But now it was Thor out in the cold, and Loki needs to find him.

He needs to find him.

Breaking out of his own paralysis, he changes into clothes that are suitable. Hands shaking, he finds the largest, thickest coat, scarf, mitts, and hat. Does his best to hurry before his thoughts become intrusive with the worst possibilities. If Thor had been in an a-accident…what would he do? Which hospital would he be in? What – he tries not to panic – what state he might be in.

A key clattered in the lock, startling him out of his panic.

The door opens faster than the sweep of a wing, and Loki is very nearly almost knocked aside. Thor came through the opening, a dark blur of a figure in a rush of motion, as if he’d been running. His eyes find Loki’s in the dark, expression drawn with worry. The apologies tumble out of him in haste. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve called – the snow – I was caught up in traffic – there’d been an accident –“

His eyes process the image of Loki readied in a coat, just about having gone out. “You’re home.” he states, breathlessly.

Guilt lodges in the back of his throat like a stone. He should’ve known better than to leave things so late. On a night like this especially. “There was a pile-up.” The sound of nothing, before a crash into the lane beside. For there are no skid sounds on snow. His car hadn’t been very far from the scene that obstructed the roads.

Loki looks like he’s about to cry.

Thor closes the door shut behind him with a gentle _snick_. Enveloping in the safety of their apartment again. The two of them hesitating in the doorway.

Loki’s hands reach up to cup his face, the red on his cheeks from the cold. He could see on Loki’s face the tender look of relief that was threatening to overwhelm him, and himself, the intense, singular focus with which he regarded his brother.

“I’m home.”

Their mouths meet each other’s in a crash of lips. The night’s near chance fatality not escaping either of them, in hindsight, but Thor only letting the knowledge wash over him now once he passed the threshold to their home – knowing Loki would be waiting.

His arm closes around Loki, and Loki arced up towards him, mouth desperate and eager. It’s nothing like the fleeting brush of lips they shared those months ago. It hardly matters to him now. He meets his brother’s insistence, and overpowers him for more, pushing Loki back against the doorframe and hand curling in his hair.

Both of them melting into a hot surge of desire, a wordless yes. Loki lets the tears fall. Thor lets him remove his coat.

“I’m home. I’m home. I’m home.” he repeats in between kisses. Hands clutching at everything within reach. The scarf falls to the floor. The mitts follow soon after.

“You’re cold.” he scolds, taking a hand in his, trying to warm those fingers.

Is he? He no longer feels it. The heavy coat falls off his frame to echo Thor’s on the ground. Then the doorframe’s edge was a dull blade down his back once more. Thor’s weight against him like a tide, pinning him. He embraces it, holds onto him for all that is sacred. The ecstasy of their touch, tongues gliding over each others’. ‘_Don’t ever leave me again.’_ is what he wants to say.

But then words became redundant. He wants the promise of Thor’s touch.

Both of them seem to have the same intentions, but their actions struggled gracelessly as limbs fumbled in dark urgency. Becoming entangled in a race. He works free a few of Thor’s buttons before Thor has his shirt open. Finally, coming to enough sense in time, Thor simply takes charge by lifting him up, arms curving around his bottom, with Loki bringing his legs around.

Thor gets them to the bedroom as Loki’s teeth rake across Thor’s collarbone.

Loki yelps when Thor drops him onto the mattress, body crashing on top of him, bedframe creaking with the impact. Loki’s winded, partly from being landed on (before his brother caught his own weight on his arms), and partly because he’s not as preoccupied with breathing properly. Mouth searching out Thor’s once more. His brother moans against his lips “Tomorrow we’re going to get you a cell.” running his fingers through Thor’s hair, windblown and still cold.

Thor took him by the hips, dragging him down the bed while the shirt rode up as he slid. He pauses, gazing at his little brother by the window’s illumination, the night outside continuous snow. “You look like an angel.” prompting a huff of laughter from Loki.

His eyes gleam with brightness. Thor hates that he’s made him cry with worry, even if there’s only happiness in them now.

He remembers himself, and reigns his own desires in. He doesn’t want to hurt him, or rush this.

Blushing, he just wants to say it so they can both confirm what they’re about to do. “We’re brothers, but…” taking in a deep breath, “it doesn’t have to matter. I—”

It’s hard to think when Loki is looking like the most beautiful being he will ever lay eyes on.

“I would rather the rest of my life with you, for as long as I can, if it’s what you also want.” He’s given him the last few months to think it through, so that his heart was settled, so that his emotions were sure. He doesn’t want to try defining what it is between them or when it started anymore. It doesn’t matter.

Then he moves up to kiss Loki below the eyes, tasting the salt trails left from earlier. Tonight taught them that any day could’ve been the last. He’s not willing to waste time on confusion.

“Thor I love you. I want you.” he says it simply as the only truth he’s ever known.

And it’s all the permission Thor needs. “Is this…is this your first time?” he asks, a little nervous. Loki nods.

Thor’s relieved. Relieved that it’ll be _him_ to love his brother proper. “Shh,” he soothes “let me take care of you then.” and then he buries his face in Loki’s neck, kissing and sucking. Enjoying Loki’s whimpered sounds of pleasure. He continued his way down, parting all remaining clothing along the way. Ravenous kisses everywhere along Loki’s body as it became bared. Loki’s face flushed and hot in the dark, his pulse racing in double meter. He gasped into the sheets as Thor’s rough hands stripped him of his pants and underwear.

He felt the air against his naked skin, and the familiar ache of helplessness. But unlike with En, he wasn’t afraid, and for what comes next, Thor would be the one to define it forever. So he looks at him the same way a child might, apprehensive, yet perfectly trusting in the midst of that fear.

Thor took a second to admire him like this – the candor of his innocence such a wordless, limitless confession of trust. One that offered everything.

His brother’s fingers wrapped around Loki’s erection, drawing up and down with torturous slowness. His thumb rolling about the smooth head’s flare on each upward pump. Stroking him afire, back and forth all the way until Loki was fully hard. “You’re all grown up now.” he murmurs.

Loki has to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming from the sound of Thor’s voice alone. Better than any dirty shower fantasy he could’ve ever imagined for himself.

He stops, for a moment, to grope inside the dresser and retrieve the bottle of lube there. Loki tries not to keen a sound as he strains against the absence of those lingering touches. He’s so hot he almost wishes for a glass of water. His ears catch on the sound of the tube’s cap snapping opened and closed over his own heartbeat threatening to drown it all out.

He eyes the glisten of lotion on Thor’s fingers. Trying to brace himself for their thickness. “You’re already this hot - relax for me babe.” and kissing him in reassurance. Loki sucks in a breath.

The cream was cool, and his touch caused him to flinch for a moment. What if he’s wrong, and this will be painful despite Thor’s efforts? Thor’s fingers brushed his opening, causing him to shiver and light in a ghost spark. He decides he wants this – just as Thor pushes a thick finger in. Thor groans in response at the sight of Loki beneath him, his other hand catching under his brother’s knee, forcing his leg up along with his ass.

He looks fascinated at the way it went inside. Sliding and twisting, the burn of the friction lessening. “You’re doing so well.” he croons, before giving Loki another.

Loki’s cock was leaking precome, silvery strands dripping down on his belly. Thor’s mouth followed, licking a path of fire into the crease of his navel. Relishing the taste of his little brother on his tongue. Then Thor bent towards him, another breath, warm and humid, catching Loki’s mouth in his so that Loki could taste them both. If not for the action, he would’ve cried out. His prick pulsed with need, and Thor screwed a third finger inside.

His leg, hitched up by Thor’s grasp on his thigh, trembled in his hold. With an arc when he tried to thrust his hips to meet Thor’s, his other leg latched around Thor’s waist. Loki flung his arm over Thor’s shoulder, nails digging into the meat of that muscle. When he didn’t even realize it, the discomfort had already given way to pleasure. Suddenly three fingers didn’t seem enough. He wanted more, and he dragged his nails across Thor’s back to let him know.

So then Thor drew back, chuckling slightly at Loki’s desperation. Unlike him, his brother was collected in his arousal. Unhurried. Loki pouted at the unfairness. Those fingers leave him last and he sobs at the loss. His heart thumped in his chest. Almost mad by now with need for the return of that touch, for something even greater. Anticipation rising like the swell of a tide.

The jingle of Thor’s buckle. The slide of his belt. The metallic purr of the zip. It registers like a countdown, then Loki is already parting his legs for him as Thor leans over, coating his shaft in lube. That warmth bumped against him, prodded against his rear.

“Please, _please---”_

“I want you to take a deep breath.” Even now, taking the time to be gentle.

Loki keeps eye contact and obeys. Thor caught both legs this time and keeps them raised. The stretched burned slightly along the muscles, but that was nothing compared to the burn at his entrance as the width of Thor’s member starts pushing in. He concentrates on being as yielding and relaxed as possible.

“Gods—” Thor hisses.

It felt like a lifetime, between the tip of his cock and the seat of Thor’s length. The dampness at the corner of Loki’s eyes threatened to fall with its gathering weight. He moaned, gasping all the while “_More._”

He wants Thor to banish the cold forever.

In a final surge, Thor was seated all the way, and the sensation jolted him all the way from spine to skull. He flung his head back and silently choked on the knowledge of that intrusion. Of his brother’s thick, impossible heat inside him. The shock of that entry mixing with terrible and wonderful ecstasy: joined in full.

Fitting together like they’ve never been.

His brother was his second self. Even now, he wished he could dissolve the edges of their physical being, but then Thor began to thrust – and heavens – it was just as good.

Thor’s mouth met his, and Loki’s hand travelled downward to take his own erection in hand. Thor pumped and Loki’s old world ended. Sparks along every nerve. They moved as one need, one heat, one heart, on rhythm, one union. Bodies entwined and pleasure pulsing.

The sensation of being so overwhelmingly filled. The way he was stretched on the thickness of his brother like he was born for it. Thor breaks the kiss to lean their foreheads together. He angled his thrusts in a way to strike him like a flint on each drive.

Loki’s lips part to struggle to draw in breath. Both their breathing becoming ragged and harsh. Thor increased the pace of his thrusts, gathering speed and force. The pressure started to build, and he tightened an arm around Thor’s neck. He looked into Thor’s eyes, trying to find the right words to say. _Yes. More. Please. Harder. Brother._ The inarticulation was just as well, because Thor was able to read his desire and answer the need.

To return in full all he could give, pure abandon.

Unafraid and unashamed.

“I love you.” he whispers, and Loki is the first to come.

He comes, release flowing all over his hand, spurting onto his chest like the shower of light against the midnight sky. Like free fall. Breaking into a thousand searing sparks in the dark. Thor chokes back a groan and then shatters his own release inside. Filling Loki with the incandescent spend, spasming against and collapsing on top of him as they fall into eternity together.

Slowly, and softly, like the snow drifting down outside, floating down from that unfathomable height after the dwindling aftershocks of pleasure. Thor rolls over onto his back and draws Loki up beside him. Loki’s places his head on his brother’s chest.

The warmth of his body veiling his thoughts.

The lullaby of his heartbeat calming his own.

\---

He’s woken by the slow slant of sunlight into the bedroom, travelling down the length of the bed, and warming him with its caress. He blinks blearily, nestling into the pillow, and turning his head to glance outside. The snow was still falling. Getting up, he felt a strange translucency. He reaches out for Thor’s side of the bed – he’s gone but the sheets still linger warm. His heart tugs in longing.  
  


Feet touching the floor, braving the first cold surface of the day. Drawing a shivery breath, he walked into the light and stared at the line of his shadow, where it stretched away before rising up inside the gold lit frame of the opposite wall. He walked towards the door, thin shadow scissoring with the motion of his legs, before tugging the blanket off the edge of the bed and around him like a cape, suffused once again in its warmth.

That’s when Thor returns, naturally as daylight, asking what he wants for breakfast, voice slightly rough from sleep, beard a shade shaggier. “The ploughs will be working all day to clear the streets.”

_I’m not going anywhere._

It’s the most beautiful morning he’s woken up to.

He smiles and tries to coax him back in bed when Thor bends towards him, soft, grazing nuzzles no more substantial than single flakes peppered along skin, until a whole chain of evanescent contacts. Thor laughs, low and rich, kissing him deep. When they join it’s not so much touch as it is completion.

** _September 1989 – Fall _ **

** **

The drop in temperature had come early, thus leaving no remorse for the hazy summer buzz that had their little town baking. The air was quiet now with a chill that had chased off the cicadas.

Thus autumn. It seems almost, like the first autumn. Their first autumn. The squash dishes, the sweater pullovers, the radiating heater, their mother’s scarves, Odin’s thick socks, and most of all, hand in hand on their way to school each weekday morning.

Each day finds itself damp with dew, amongst the carpet of leaves: pomegranate red to pumpkin orange to dandelion yellows. His little brother loves the colors. Thor tends to lose one of his mitts with regularity. Loki has a knack for finding them. In exchange, he helps with lacing his shoes when they head out together.

Loki takes to school well, and Frigga is finally happy to be able to see her little boy falling in step with his older brother. She smiles to herself how something so modest as beginning grade one seemed like such a monumental milestone. Starting now she thinks that this is when the years will really fly by. As if all it took was the synchronized boyhood rhythm of two brothers to spur the passage of time.

Only on weekends does it seem like the world pauses in their household. Neither of them are at an age to have homework occupy them too long. Just as well, because Frigga is preparing apple pie at the kitchen island while Odin watches the news channel in spiced-cidered-content.

Loki and Thor are sitting cross legged in front of the armchair on the carpet as well. All of them are very excited for what is to be a meteor shower tonight. A rare event for where they are. Mom and dad were going to witness the event from the back porch, but Loki and Thor wanted to see it from the nearby hilltop.

It’s then that delicate hour between afternoon and evening. Between the last, prolonged vestiges of light and then the stalled, lack of it. Everything in the foreground is silhouetted against the hues of deepening twilight, and Loki had wanted an unobstructed view of the night sky – no powerlines, bare tree branches, or neighbouring rooftops. His hand squeezes around Thor’s, urging them to climb faster.

Thor teases at being out of breath with exaggerated huffs by the end of it as he collapses on the grass, but then the first streak gleams above them, and they are for an entirely different reason. It starts like a rainstorm. One, two, three, then twenty. All the sudden at once. All the sudden, the journey of eons coming to completion over the skies of their town. For Thor, a boy barely past ten, he can feel the dazzling lightweight of centuries.

The meteors were burning up as they disintegrated in the atmosphere, flung by boundless majesty. How far they’ve travelled – after so many light years for the journey to end like this.

If he were lucky enough to live until a hundred, would he encounter another event like this? Maybe not, but even so, the memory will never fade. He steals a look down for just a moment, hoping that Loki, though younger, will be able to retain this as well. They’ll only have each other to refer to this shared memory in years to come.

In glints of somberness, he tried to guess at the years, thinking of each flash against the velvet dark like that of an experience within the mystery of the future. It turned him strangely sentimental. He tried picking out certain trajectories based on length and brightness. As if it were the fourth of July and they were trying to keep track of which exploded firework was greatest. Somehow both an eternity in an instant, and a horizon without an edge. Whatever glimpse into the secrets of the universe, they stayed secret. For Thor watched and let himself be taken by the moment, helpless other than to marvel.

It was beautiful. He curled a hand in Loki’s hair, with his little brother’s head leaning against his chest and watching avidly, face still and upturned.

Shooting stars. He makes a wish on each. The very same, repeated.

Together, on a hillside, they watch the way stars fall: the same way fond hearts do when in love.

Eventually the meteors tapered out, without any lingering trace. It was still everywhere above and below, like the world had not yet released its held breath. Both brothers belatedly realized they should be headed home but weren’t in a hurry to find their legs. Going downhill in the dark was an awkward process, like attempting to walk after pins and needles, they’re yet a little numb. The feeling of normalcy doesn’t return for a while, even after they re-enter the illuminated enclosure of their mother’s kitchen, nor after the cozy, descended weight of blankets. Sleep is not the reset it often is.

A fragment of what’s fallen now resides within them, between them, warm and nostalgic. Full of yearning.

** _April 2004 – Spring _ **

** **

_‘Funny how a year goes by like nothing at all.’_ he contemplates to himself, sitting on a park bench. The late spring still with misty mornings. He was a characteristically solitary figure along the path side. Sometimes a biker would ring past or a jogger skipping by, but otherwise a perfectly peaceful time of day. There won’t be very many of these days left now that he’ll be reenrolled for the summer semester again.

In some ways he’s even looking forward to it.

A year since and he’ll resume his studies. Within that time, the things he imagined to be the worst of all possibilities come to pass…but none of it had resulted in the heartbreak and abandonment he thought would leave him bereft.

He looks over the field and down in his lap. It’s not the kind of life anyone else would be able to fathom.

But it’s not the kind of love anyone else needed to live with.

Some day in the future, a watcher might take notice of the way two bachelors decided to keep company with each other in a tidy enough apartment, the bedroom window open, a man leaning on the balcony balustrade by evening, and smoking languidly before going back to bed.

Some day in the future, a watcher might see two figures lean in close and whisper the motion of words so familiarly repeated that they could be lip read by anyone careful enough to notice, despite the hushed tones.

Some day, a watcher who might know them as brothers might spy them from a distance, guards lowered in seemingly secluded privacy, trading a quick peck on the cheek or something deeper than the tilt of heads would suggest. Who might be able to then put together the signs that they were perhaps, more than simply brothers.

Would their being together ever have cause to draw suspicion’s eye? Would they keep watching after that? If so, would scandalized be the only reaction to follow?

Sometimes, with the way his brother’s love shines through in all its warmth, he almost fears that keeping it hidden from the world would be the next most difficult secret short of denying it. But others could always be relied on to assume the most innocuous of reasonings. It’s been months already and Loki can scarcely believe it despite the aftermath of lying in Thor’s arms after making love and making plans.

It still hits him in the quiet interims like the shiver of closeness that he felt upon being embraced, that moment of hesitation before the dissolving of boundaries, the voiceless promise. Ones so close to the heart, it needn’t be said.

These details belonged to them and only them. Just the one lifetime. After which these secrets would dissipate into the void, no more retrievable than a handful of sand tossed into the sea.

He takes a deep breath. Now a different kind of inevitable being contemplated, but it brought him calm where the condemnation from a younger self never did. He still recalls that mindset, now more like an echo, but he no longer felt as if he were made of glass.

Rising to leave, a breeze blows through the park, carrying with it, delicate notes of florals, scents strained on warm wind. It’s so subtle he almost misses it. Faintly, he recalls the heels of his palms tucked with soil, and the perfume of Frigga’s favourite garden flower. He turned back and saw within the shaded underbrush, clusters of pure white teardrops amongst the deep green.

He walked towards, almost hesitant, and before he knew it, he had knelt on bended knee and reached towards the shy plant with newfound tenderness. Scent being the surest gateway to memory. The childhood years all unspooled again.

He was waiting for Thor to return. Thor was waiting to see what Loki wanted to show him.

The future was far from assured, but if the present was any indication, everything would be alright. For now, he remembers, and remembers, and remembers.

  * _Lily of the Valley: associated with the return of happiness in the language of flowers._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time. Don't let a compliment go unsaid if it's on the tip of your tongue. ; ) 
> 
> Follow at the artist's [twitter](https://twitter.com/riringo?lang=en) or the author's [twitter.](https://twitter.com/Estivate9)


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